


Nighttime Driving

by Docdur



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, M/M, just a couple of guys being dudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-30 00:45:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10149167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Docdur/pseuds/Docdur
Summary: Occasionally Ignis will get a phone call from Gladio. He always answers.





	

Ignis had been curled up on his settee when he’d received the call from Gladio.

It was beginning to be a regular occurrence for him. He’d be stretched out on his settee or chair or sat at his desk with laptop or phone at hand, making his way through the day’s work – which he never, never had enough hours in the day for – when he’d receive a call. And it was always from Gladio. And he would always, despite himself and knowing how much work he was still buried under, agree.

Which is how he would find himself on those dreary Insomnian nights being driven through the streets in Gladio’s beaten up car. It was a nice rhythm that they’d set up for themselves, and neither of them are entirely sure on how it began, when it began, but Ignis was thankful for it, even though he’d never voice it in such words. It was relaxing for the both of them. Sat in the car with songs from the radio quietly playing throughout the car, Ignis watching with hooded eyes through the window as the city rolled on by, chin resting on his hand and mind wandering away from the work that, in other situations, he constantly felt crawl its way to his consciousness. It was a welcome reprieve.

Gladio would make small talk here and there, but never anything more than that, and he never pushed Ignis to respond beyond his usual one worded answers or noises of agreement or dismissal. He, too, seemed contented to have their rare drives in this way, and Ignis could see the stress of weeks roll from Gladio’s shoulders effortlessly as his hands lay at the wheel.

It was comfortable. So very, very comfortable. There was no pressure to be anything that they weren’t. No pressure to think, to talk, to act, in Gladio’s old yet reliable car.

On one particular night, Gladio parks in the same spot he does on most of their drives – a car lot, mostly empty, away from a lot of the noise of the city. There’s vague noises out there, out of the window, but far off enough that Ignis doesn’t find himself wondering what exactly is going on beyond those vast building lights. He’s mindlessly staring at those lights when he feels a familiar weight pushed into his palm and when he looks, it’s a can of his favourite drink. It makes him start for all of a second, shooting a curious glance to the Shield who would normally berate him for drinking coffee so late into the evening, but he receives nothing in way of answer. So he opens it, enjoys it, dragging it out with small sips and closed eyes.

But then Gladio speaks.

“Gunna tell me what’s going on, then?”

Ignis practically jumps. He’s so accustomed to the usual way, their companionable silence, that any words are ready to fry his nerves. He looks to Gladio in muted shock. Why now? Why ask him to speak now?

It was such a weighted question with so many answers, so many things he had on his mind from rising demon attacks to the Prince’s indifference towards his studies. Was Gladio expecting him to divulge everything? He almost felt hurt. The trust of being able to be away from his worries for an hour or so being shattered before him.

But Gladio isn’t looking at him – he isn’t expecting him to answer, and when Ignis falters with his words all he gets is a gentle smile and then the usual music floating through the car is made gradually louder, and louder, until Ignis is visibly uncomfortable by the noise in his ears. He makes to ask Gladio what he’s doing, if he’ll turn it down, but he can’t even hear is own voice over the volume let alone the Shield’s.

That’s when he realises what the other is doing. Gladio is barely paying attention to him, hand tapping on the wheel to the beat of the overly loud music, eyes staring off through the windshield – so Ignis talks.

He says everything. He lets out everything that weighs on his shoulders and everything that threatens to close up his throat with hidden emotion when he thinks of it. All of his worries, concerns, fears. They’re all there, drowned out by music too loud for the both of them, unfitting, but a blanket smothering every word said.

Gladio gives a glance every now and again, to make sure Ignis’ lips are still moving, that he’s still venting, and it’s only when he feels a gentle gloved touch on his arm that he turns the music down to its original soft volume. There’s a quiet thank you, and the engine rumbles back to life.

Soon enough this becomes a feature of their drives, too. Gladio offers an audience, a deaf ear to all of Ignis’ concerns that are swallowed in melodies. The songs never matter, the genre is constantly changing. So long as it’s loud enough, neither of them mind. They’re comfortable. Sometimes Gladio even joins in, speaking what’s on his mind and Ignis watches, finds himself growing curious, wanting to listen, wanting to be able to hear. But he would never dare break the comfortable act, the rhythm, the trust.

It goes on for weeks like this. The weight that sat on Ignis’ shoulders lessens, he can breathe, and he finds himself watching the taller man more than speaking in their drowned out moments. He wants to hear what Gladio has to say, he wants to hear those worries, and soon enough he wants Gladio to hear his own concerns, too. He was growing tired of just glancing at one another as they spoke. He was growing tired of watching and never hearing, of the once comforting action of speaking into a muffled wall of sound with the promise of never being heard.

One night, as they’re parked and Gladio reaches out for the radio’s dial, a hand catches his and forces it to still.

That night, in a muted car, Ignis tells him everything.

**Author's Note:**

> First fic I have written in... well, forever. I don’t usually write beyond RPing, or share my writings, so please be gentle my friends, and constructive criticism is always welcome!
> 
> I'm dandyviago over on tumblr, feel free to drop in for lots of doses of Gladnis.


End file.
